Stags and Hens
by Littlemissdarling
Summary: Hermione and Ron have set the date, made the plans and true to tradition, argued over the tiny details. However, there is still one tradition that hasn't even been mentioned, until Ginny decides that she should be the one to set those plans in motion.
1. What Hermione wants

Chapter 1 - What Hermione wants.

Quick note I fairly obviously don't own any of the characters in this story. All belong to the fabulous J.K.

This Chapter has not yet been Beta-d. I searched in vain but no such luck. If anyone is dying to correct it for me let me know and I'll happily let you.

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It was nearing 8 o'clock and the bar was filled with all kinds of unusual, loud, inebriated people. Perhaps most unusual of all however, was the brown haired woman sitting upright in the corner on her own, in a black halter neck dress. Her focus was on the door, so much so she failed to notice the stares she was receiving from many of the men in the bar, or else she was trying to ignore them. She checked her watch and glanced around the bar with a sigh, she'd already been hit on three times that evening and desperately wanted to leave. Her fingers tapped against the wood and she found that the rhythm was strangely soothing. She was just about to sigh and perform some kind of stomping away act when the stunning red-head that she had been waiting for burst through the doors. She sauntered over to her friend, her light green summer dress swaying provocatively. Giving her an apologetic smile and a kiss on the cheek she explained why she was so late, then crossed her fingers and hoped for the best.

"Honestly Ginny it's fine, I'm just glad you're here." Hermione said.

"Good, now where's the barman, I need a drink!" She exclaimed, looking around the room expectantly as if he should just appear out of nowhere simply because she wished him to.

"Oh can't we go somewhere else? I know I picked this place but I never expected it to be so…crazy."

Just then, as if to illustrate her point, a group of giggling 20-somethings all wearing an insane amount of pink burst through the door. They were loud and proud, according to their matching headbands. They were all also wearing the same kind of half excited half drunk smile that one can only achieve once they have drunk so much that the world seems like a rosy, candy clouds and rainbows kind of place.

"No!" Ginny squealed, now watching the group of girls with interest. "This place looks like fun, besides, you need to let your hair down what with all the planning you've been doing."

Meanwhile, the drunken rabble had begun to sing - "_You're getting married in the morning…"_

"but it's so loud in here I can barely hear myself think." Hermione protested.

"_Ding, dong the bells are gonna chime…"_

"So? Just enjoy it doing nothing for once will you! Plus you've made me so stressed with this bloody wedding that I need a good night out. Hey look, she's dancing on the table." Ginny giggled.

The group of girls had climbed onto a table and added dance moves to their song, laughing hysterically they began to shout-

"_PULL OUT HIS TODGER, OHH WHAT A WHOPPER! NOW GET YOU TO THE CHURCH ON TIME!" _They finished, to a raucous applause from the other bar-goers and proceeded to fall over each other as they clambered off of the table. As they neared the two friends, Ginny noticed that they were all wearing similar badges. The barman finally noticed that Ginny and Hermione were waiting and turned towards them.

"What can I get you two lovely ladies then?"

"Just a mineral water please-" Hermione began, before being interrupted by an exasperated Ginny.

"No, you need a good alcoholic drink, two strong vodka and cokes please." She had spent so much time around muggles while planning the wedding that she had learnt a lot of worldly, useful information. Such as which drinks were weak, which were strong and which would make her sing the wizarding anthem and then puke like a little baby.

They sat in silence until the drinks arrived, watching the other inhabitants of the bar. Hermione sat, sipping her drink and trying to ignore the taste, she had never been one for vodka. Ginny however, drained her glass within a few seconds and slammed it down on the bar.

"Hey Hermione, what's a Hen Night Girl?" She asked, tilting her head and reading from the badge on the girl closest to her.

"It's nothing, just a silly muggle tradition." Hermione replied, desperately trying to avoid what she knew was probably coming. The last thing she wanted was a hen night planned by Ginny, their ideas of a fun night were decidedly different, although she wasn't sure she had the strength to argue, that week had been a particularly tiring one, how was she to know that planning a wedding would be such a stressful ordeal? She had mentioned this to her Husband-to-be only the day before, he had then asked her who she was and what she had done with Hermione Granger. You see Hermione was undoubtedly, one of the smartest people in the wizarding world, surely she would have had enough life experience to realise that weddings are not the sort of events which go off without a hitch. Unfortunately, the planning of this one this one had gone off with a crash, a bang and several dancing leprechauns.

"Go on, spill." Ginny probed, eager to learn more about the strange custom which made it acceptable for a group of girls to get blind drunk and dance provocatively on a table.

"Well it's like a party for the bride and her friends, the night before the wedding. Usually the maid of honour organises it and-"

"What?!" said Ginny incredulously, appalled by the possibility of being denied this fantastic opportunity to throw her best friend a party. "Were you going to tell me about this little tradition?"

"Well no I wasn't, I don't really want a hen night you see and I figured you had enough to be doing already without planning a night out as well."

"Hermione Granger do you not know your future sister in law at all?! I'm planning this hen night whether you like it or not, there's no way you're denying me the opportunity of a lifetime missy."

Now what with Ginny being Ginny and all, she was having visions of a very exciting night out, all the little details were grouping together in her head, the people she would invite, what they would do, where they go and how much Hermione could take to drink the night before her wedding.

"No listen Ginny it's okay, I really don't want a fuss-"

"If you don't want a fuss why on earth are you getting married?! You are aware that on your wedding day everyone will be fussing over you aren't?"

"Yes but-"

"Good then that's settled, I'll start planning straight away, this is going to be so much fun!" Hermione's face arranged itself into a look of pure horror at these words, she didn't even want to think about what Ginny would plan, all she knew was to get through the evening she was sure to need a substantial amount of alcohol in her bloodstream. Ginny's face on the other hand, bore a smile of pure delight, she would need to start organising straight away. Her enthusiasm soon ran away with her and her mental plans turned into more of a mental three-ring-circus, complete with lions, elephants and a trapeze artist who looked suspiciously like Hermione.

"So anyway, the florist finally got back to me about the changes I made to the bouquet, he said it's all fine which is a relief because I thought tha-"

"Are your muggle friends coming to the wedding or not?"

"Well, I think so, well only a few of them and they already know about wizards and stuff anyway so it's-"

"Great! I'll invite them along too" Ginny exclaimed, glancing down at her napkin. Hermione chanced a glance too and found a list of people that were presumably being invited to the hen night.

"I do not, under any circumstances, want Lavender and Parvarti there." Her tone was such that Ginny knew there was no chance of persuading her. Hermione had a strange way of commanding and manipulating, you knew that you were being manipulated, but there was nothing that you could do about it. Over the years Ginny had become adept at squirming her way around Hermione, twisting things so that that went her way. This time however, she knew that there was no chance of changing her mind. In Ginny's head, Hermione was simply stubborn and determined not to have a good time with her friends. In reality, Hermione was determined not to let anything ruin her wedding and having Lavender and Parvarti along to an evening that she didn't want anyway seemed a sure fire way to do just that.

"Okay, what about Luna? Can she come?"

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. "Yes, I suppose so." Feeling that Luna's strangeness would be easier to put up with than Lavender and Parvati's incessant need to know everything about everyone. "I really don't want a big thing Gin, surely you can understand that."

"Yeah, yeah that's fine" She replied, clearly not paying any attention. "Hermione, how do you feel about strippers?"

Hermione's face fell, it was sure to be one long night. She attempted one last time at changing the topic of conversation but soon called a halt to the evening after realising the only thing Ginny had on her mind was the Hen party, or evening of impending doom as she had re-christened it. They left the muggle pub, found a dark alley and apparated to their respective houses; Hermione to a house in the country, where she found her beloved tucked up in bed and snoring like a rhino, Ginny to a small flat in the centre of muggle London, it was close her workplace and quite cute, besides, it wasn't as if she had the need for anything bigger.


	2. The Plunge

At some point in one's life they often find they must take the plunge. Not a plunge, everyone takes many plunges, but a plunge into a pool of icy cold water that stings the skin and makes one wish that they hadn't taken the plunge at all but instead had taken the time to build a bridge or invent some kind of water-heating device. Some of the greatest plunges wouldn't be so without the vast expanse of icy cold water, then of course there are the plunges that one knows they must take, for the good of mankind. That was why Ginny Weasley was sitting outside a studio apartment in central London on a park bench early on a Sunday morning, building up the courage to take a plunge that she knew would bring her into contact with someone she had spent much of the past two years avoiding wherever possible.

Gathering all of her confidence she got up from the bench, pushed open the wrought iron gate, tripped over a step she hadn't seen and fell over. Attempt one- failure. She sat herself back on the bench and found there was a large gash in her knee, checked that no one was around and then healed it with a quick flick of her wand. Attempt two proved to be just as unsuccessful as attempt one, she was careful not to trip up the step but she encountered a very large crack in the pavement that happened to the be exact fit for the heel of her shoe which promptly snapped off and became wedged in between two paving slabs. Sighing, she repaired her broken heel. She made sure that attempt three was a success, well as much of a success as one can make out of walking up a garden path. Reaching the door she found it open, her luck was changing. She was counting on the element of surprise and did not want to have to be buzzed into the building After all, it was a lot less surprising if someone turned up at your front door after you had let them into the foyer.

She climbed the stairs very slowly and tried to calm the stampede that was running around her stomach. Deep breaths seemed to do the trick and five minutes later she found that she had run out of stairs and was standing outside a white oak door complete with a gold knocker in the shape of a lion. More deep breathing was needed at the this point, she was coming close to leaping back down the stairs and apparating home again. A stark realisation hit her just as she began to turn around- she was being incredibly silly. It was one simple task and she knew it had to be done. It was not fair to deny her brother of a stag night if Hermione was having a hen night. So it was necessary to turn around again, knock on the door and inform his best man of the new plans for the eve of the wedding and that was exactly what she did.

The door swung open. A blonde girl wearing nothing but a man's blue shirt, which thankfully was very big on her, greeted Ginny with a smile that plainly said: I know who you are, what in the name of Dumbledore's broomstick are you doing here? Ginny responded with a smile that clearly stated: Be nice to me or I'll hex you into the next century, you slut. Before either of the girls could speak, well at least before either of them had thought of anything nice to say, a voice called out lazily from a room at the back of the apartment.

"Jas, who is it and what do they want?"

"It's Ginny, I'm assuming she wants to see you." The blonde said coldly, the smile still fixed on her face.

"You what?" The disembodied voice called out again.

"Darling, come to the door and greet her, she'll be thinking you're awfully rude." The blonde's tone was sickly sweet and it couldn't have been more obvious that Ginny was incredibly unwelcome. "He won't be a minute, he's just putting some clothes on I expect." She remarked, her voice unchanging, leaving Ginny to mentally uncover the hidden meaning in that statement. Ginny wasn't stupid and recognised straight away that this girl must see her as a threat, otherwise why would she mention that he needed to put his clothes back on after a night of having them off?

A pair of blue fluffy slippers appeared, attached to feet of course, which was attached to a body wearing nothing but boxers and a white t shirt, this in turn was attached to a very good looking head, not spoiled, but rather enhanced by the lighting shaped scar above the eyebrows. Ginny looked Harry up and down and instantly the stampede in her stomach raged again. She took a bold step into the hallway and said

"Don't worry, I won't stay long." Although from the look on Harry's face she wasn't welcome to stay at all, if she was going to intrude the length of time was irrelevant. Their eyes locked together, neither wanting to break the gaze first.

"I've just come to talk to you about wedding plans." Ginny announced, still staring straight into Harry's stunning green eyes. The eyes that used to make her go weak at the knees. Now she was imagining gouging them out with a nice blunt instrument.

"Go get back into bed, I'll join you when I'm done." Harry said, kissing the blonde on the forehead and then watching her trip down the corridor.

"Oh was that really necessary?" The response was cold and sharp.

"Why, jealous?" Harry teased, although the bitter undertone couldn't have been more obvious.

"Look, I just wanted to let you know that I'm throwing Herms a hen party, I didn't want Ron to miss out on a stag do so I thought I should let you know. Although obviously if you're too busy…" She tailed off, gazing pointedly down the corridor before raising an eyebrow and looking straight back at Harry.

"Hermione's letting you throw a hen night?!" Harry scoffed. "I'm surprised, I thought she was too stiff to have any kind of fun at all." His tone was provocative expression changed from a scowl to an unmistakeable smirk. Ginny's cheeks flared scarlet, a sure sign that she was about to rip someone's head off.

"Just because you've decided that having fun means getting smashed and sleeping with whoever will crawl into bed with you doesn't mean everyone else has to live in the same sordid way." She fumed, her hand closing in around the wand in her pocket; it had just occurred to her that it was, in fact, a very blunt instrument.

"Oh chill out Gin, I'm only having a laugh, I'm still young after all! I didn't exactly have a childhood remember."

"Oh sod off with your excuses, everyone thinks the way you're acting now is completely ridiculous. Good old Harry Potter, enjoying his life at last? It's pathetic. Grow up like the rest of us did."

"I think you'll find who I spend my time with is no business of yours, any more." He responded, deliberately choosing words he knew would anger and frustrate.

"And I'm really glad it isn't!" she snapped, her voice cracking slightly as tears formed in the corner of her eyes. "just make sure Ron gets to the wedding on time and in one piece!" She finished, turning away and stepping out of the hallway. She heard a laugh and then felt the door slam shut behind her.

Composing herself, she stepped slowly down the stairs once more. The plunge had been taken and she'd come out of the pool soaked and with pneumonia, she'd stayed under far too long than was healthy. The last step took her by surprise, for she was imagining all of the body parts that would be fun to remove from Harry using a blunt saw. She fell, well it more of a hurtle really, straight into the arms of a young man who was kind enough to catch her.

"Well, well, I've gone and caught myself a Weasel" the man said, though the words were malicious, the tone was light hearted and friendly. She looked up into the eyes of her saviour, if you could call catching someone who'd fallen off of one step a saviour.

"Malfoy!" She exclaimed, immediately embracing him as though he were an old friend. She glanced back up the stairs towards Harry's flat with a sudden feeling of sadness; things had certainly changed since the downfall of Voldemort.


End file.
